


Horrors of War

by Omeg



Category: This War of Mine (Video Game)
Genre: Civil War, Comedy, Dark Comedy, Out of Character, Parody, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omeg/pseuds/Omeg
Summary: After many months of living in the warzone, the survivors of the war in Granzavia have finally lived to see the coming of peace. However, they come to realize that they don't necessarily like this development.
Kudos: 3





	Horrors of War

**Author's Note:**

> The following is a parody fic based on the survival game "This War of Mine". All the characters belong to 11 bit studios and nothing written below this note is to be taken seriously. I just felt like taking a shot at... well, you'll see what if you decide to keep reading.

Bruno picked up a bottle from the moonshine still. It was still hot, fresh from the brewing process, but from the looks of it turned out alright. Bruno put the bottle to his nostrils and inhaled, trying to catch the scent of the bottle's contents. The smell was strong and impossible to be confused with any other liquid. It was a smell of a strong, good beverage... at least as good as homemade alcohol could be.

It would be enough. By now Bruno had a good grasp of how much certain items were worth and the four bottles of newly-brewed moonshine would buy them quite a lot of Franko's stock. Though to be frank, he was kind of at loss as to what exactly they wanted to buy - they had enough food to last a month and their little shelter was so well-equipped there was no use for any extra materials, especially since there were still such materials lying around in various parts of Pogoren. He supposed they could simply buy a few gallons of water and some sugar, to keep the alcohol production going. If not out any desire for profit, then out of principle. 

Bruno heard someone open the door. A few weeks ago he would grab a weapon in case it was the looters, but by now he knew how things worked. It was 6 AM, which meant there was no threat of an attack. There was, however, a large possibility of one of his friends returning from his own scavenging trip. 

"Hello!" Marko said as he entered the hall. The former firefighter seemed tired and struggling a little with his heavy backpack, but luckily unharmed. "Look at all this stuff! I wish I could bring so much every night." 

"You say that almost every time." Pavle said, scrambling out of his bed. In contrast to the other man, he seemed as fresh as daisy - to be expected given how little he had to do during the day. "You do bring so much every night, Marko." 

"Well, almost every night." Marko replied. "And it might not last too long. I think I finally emptied the construction site." 

"Can't we just keep stealing from the soldiers." Bruno asked, feeling obligated to join the exchange. "I never was at that outpost myself, but I heard that they have a cache they don't really keep their eyes on." 

"The trader does leave it unguarded every time, yeah." Marko admitted. "Still, I think we should think of way to keep our income steady." 

"Well I'm not sure if I can help you with that." Pavle said. "I have no experience in economics and I'm not as good a scavenger as you are. I was a football player before the war, you know?" 

"Yes Pavle, we know." Bruno sighed. "We spent the last month telling each other stories of who we were before the war and how we miss our families. By know I have your backstory memorized and you have mine." 

"It's important to keep some connection to one's past." Marko argued, having taken off the backpack. "Everyone should choose one happy memory. And it can't be good, it has to be grand. When it gets so bad you just want to sit down and cry, when your life seems forfeit, you close your eyes and go back to your happy moment. It's not easy, but you have to try." 

"I have that little speech of yours memorized too." Bruno commented. "Better show us what you've got." 

Marko nodded and the two of them began to unpack the loot. Pavle walked off to do something else, helpful as always, but his help wasn't really necessary. While Marko had indeed brought a lot of stuff, it wasn't anything particularly heavy like wood or stacks of components, but rather various electronics and weaponry parts, as well us some fertilizer. 

"I don't think we'll use any of this, but it's good to have a large supply." Bruno said once they were done. Then, seeing that Marko wasn't exactly jovial, he decided to cheer him up a little. "We are serious when we say you're doing good. No one else could consistently bring so many valuables, not at any reasonable pace at least." 

"Thanks." Marko smiled weakly. "But I still feel like I could be better. Maybe..." The firefighter paused as though pulled into deep thought. 

"What is it?" Bruno cocked an eyebrow. 

"Maybe instead of continuously coming back to the same dozen locations, I could actually... branch out? Actually explore this city that is apparently large and important enough to have its own independence movement?" 

Bruno was dumbfounded. He was never particularly invested in that whole scavenging business, but the idea of actually using something from all these ruins they hadn't yet explored seemed so obvious, yet so brilliant.

"If you keep doing as well as you had thus far..." Bruno said slowly. "The situation doesn't look quite as grim. We will be able to survive much longer than we had thought, perhaps indefinitely."

"Not just survive." Marko replied. "Don't you see it? We already have huge supplies of food, weapons and medicine. As long as there is some income, we don't have to worry about just surviving. We can actually live and have fun here!"

Bruno looked around their shelter. Ever since they upgraded it by boarding it up and building some furniture it had been a solace, a place where they could forget about the war for a moment. But only now did Bruno realize... it was actually a pretty nice place to live in.

"You're right." Bruno said. "You're right! We've been stuck here for weeks and we might be stuck even longer, but now we can be stuck and happy. The war can last for years if it wants to, we are prepared!

"The war is over." Pavle said as he walked into the room. 

Neither Bruno nor Marko knew what to say for almost a minute. Eventually, the firefighter was able to break the silence. "But... how? How has this happened?"

"How are wars usually ended?" Pavle replied. "There was some threat of international intervention, so the federals and the rebels managed to come into agreement. Not sure of the specifics, I was never into politics."

"There were no signs of the conflict ending..." Bruno murmured. "This is most unexpected."

"That's what they're saying in the radio." Pavle shrugged. "Come and listen if you doubt me."

The three of them followed down the ladder - for some reason, they used ladders more than they did stairs - and then into a small room. The only things of not there were the radio and the medkit, the former of which was currently transmitting something that looked like a recording from a press conference or something of the likes.

__

_"...a constitutional republic independent of the Commonwealth of Granzavia."_ A male voice said. _"The compromise satisfies both sides and had ended a year-long conflict, though there are some prominent voices criticizing the specifics of the new agreement."_

This went on for quite a while. Even without proper context and with occasional static, Bruno understood what the transmission was about - the war that plagued Pogoren for months has finally reached an end.

"So... I guess we should celebrate?" Marko suggested, though without much conviction. "The war is over guys. We can go home."

"Yes. Home." Bruno muttered under his breath. He doubted there was much left of his house and he severely doubted whatever was left was as well-equipped as their shelter. Speaking of, the legal owner of the building would probably come to knock on the door soon enough, to take everything the survivors managed to build over the last month. Maybe they would even get sued for infringing on private property - Bruno wasn't sure how these things worked.

Then again, they had done some questionable stuff, especially during the rougher periods of their stay in the warzone. Trespassing or vandalism would be the mildest charges they would face once the authorities heard about their robberies and combat engagements. 

"Yes. Hurray." Pavle also didn't show much enthusiasm. "I'm looking forward to eating some of this dietetic stuff my wife forces into me, instead of Bruno's dishes."

"And I am looking forward to not getting to smoke as much as I want anymore." Bruno nodded.

"I'll return to my job." Marko said, his tone matching the general mood. "Sitting in the depot all day long for meager pay. I might afford a flat after a year or two."

A lengthy silence followed. Radio started playing some classical music, the transmission over.

"So, I know it's awkward to admit," Pavle broke the quiet. "But it seems like none of us actually wants the war to end, do we?"

"Does it matter?" Bruno shrugged. "We get no say in the matter."

"Actually..." Marko seemed reluctant to contribute. "During one of my escapades I found a guy. Former military member. Also seemed to be doing well during the war."

"What are you suggesting?" Bruno cocked an eyebrow.

"If we allied with him, we could keep fighting. Live as bandits, maybe even something more prestigious like mercenaries or..."

"Actually, I think we can do better." Pavle cut in. "What if we made it so that this war doesn't end after all?"

"What are you saying?" Bruno turned towards his other companion.

"I'm saying that I had a lot of time to come up with ideas during my stay here." Pavle replied. "And I have one that might just get us what we want."

Pavle then spent the next quarter explaining his plan, in a surprising level of detail. Even more surprisingly, it seemed largely sound, if not... well..."

"That's dark." Marko remarked. "Are we sure we want to do that?"

"I'm not giving up smoking." Bruno decided, after a moment's consideration. Some would call Pavle's idea immoral, but everything was fair in war. And right after the war, he supposed. "But I'm not sure if we could carry this out alone."

"I think I know a guy who could help us." Marko said. "Someone I met on a trip once."

"So you are on board?" Pavle asked. "You don't seem to like the idea very much."

"I don't like this at all..." Marko sighed. "But if we're going to this, we better do this right. Come, I'll show you the way."

-~O~-

Marko approached the fortress with his two friends at his side. Because there was no other word to describe the place properly - what was once a tenement house was now a makeshift fort, its defenses formidable and likely sufficient to scare most attackers off by the sight alone.

"So, I guess this is it." Pavle said, looking over the building. "The place where your friend lives."

"Not friend, really." Marko denied. "We only met once, though I heard a few... interesting things about him."

"Interesting, as in..." Bruno looked at Marko questioningly.

"He cleared an entire bandit camp once, with nothing but a knife." Marko explained. "He's a former soldier, and he hasn't gotten any weaker since he opted to leave for the warzone. Just the kind of person we need, if we are to go through with our plan."

"After you, then." The cook gestured for Marko to approach the reinforced door. Marko didn't feel comfortable with passing through this door, nor with the situation in general, but he pulled himself together and knocked on the wood.

After a few moments, a young woman opened the door before him. She was tall and slim, though the last one was probably the result of not eating very well in recent days. Her face bore the signs of malnutrition too - it was still rather pretty, but quite skinny and with bags under the eyes.

"Oh welcome." She said, looking over the arrivals. "I was afraid that trader came to us again."

"Katia." Marko remembered the woman's name and face, not much more, but he decided calling her by name might make the conversation more friendly. "It's Marko, in case you couldn't recognize me. These are my trusted friends. We came here with an offer I figured you two might find interesting. May we go in?" 

"As long as you promise not to cause trouble." Katia replied after a moment. She then opened the door a little further, invitingly.

"Thanks." Marko stepped inside, gesturing for his companions to follow. "Is Roman here?"

"He came back from a raid recently." Katia nodded. "You need to talk to him?"

"To both of you." Marko replied. "It's a big endeavor we are planning and we need as many people as we can get."

Katia didn't like these words, going by the frown on her face, but she said nothing. She led them upstairs, into a large and rather nicely furnished room. A chair stood in the corner with a guitar on it, a wardrobe stood pressed to the wall right next to a makeshift bed. On the bed sat a man, in clothes stained with dirt and, in places, blood.

"Who are you?" He asked as he stood up. He was of average height, though something about him made him seem more dangerous than anyone else in the room. Maybe it was his expression, careful and staying just a little short of hostility. "I recognize you, I think, but the rest... what does the group like yours want in my place?"

"I'm Marko. Those are my friends, Pavle and Bruno." Marko replied. "And we don't want any trouble. Well, we do want trouble, but we want your help with that trouble."

"Help with what?" Roman cocked an eyebrow. "A raid of some sort?"

"Yes, but a little bigger than what you imagine." Marko nodded, before gesturing for Pavle to take the floor.

The other survivor coughed. "I, um, had this idea. You heard about a new peace deal, right?" Pavle waited until he received a nod from Roman. "Well, we aren't really happy with that, and my buddy Marko thought you might not be happy either. We know how we could make the war last longer, perhaps indefinitely."

"Make war last longer?" Roman seemed taken aback. "Most people would rather leave the war behind as soon as possible."

"So you're not interested?" Bruno asked.

"I didn't say that." Roman shook his head. "I'm just sort of surprised a group like yours would set a goal like this."

"We are just... wary of what the peace will bring." Marko tried to make their motivation sound as best it could sound. "We will understand if you want no part of it."

A silence fell, Roman's face twisted in a thoughtful frown. For a moment, Marko was afraid he would not only refuse, but do so violently, as to prevent the three madmen from carrying out their plan.

"I'm with you." The former soldier finally said. "It's grim business, but you're right. Vyseni can't be allowed to prosper."

"Wait what?" Marko couldn't hide his puzzlement. "Who are the Vyseni and what do they have to do with all of this?"

"The native inhabitants of these lands." Roman replied, his face showing equal surprise. "Or at least they believe themselves so. The rebel side of the war. I thought... I thought you guys wanted to stop them."

"Should we be trying to stop them?" Pavle asked.

"Are you kidding me?" Roman snorted. "These guys are nuts. They want to establish an ethnostate with its capitol in Pogoren. They never stated it outright, but I bet that once the war is over, they will start purging minorities and kill everyone who doesn't conform to their rule. How can you not know anything about the stuff like that?" 

"I was never into politics..." Bruno murmured, lowering his gaze a little. 

"There's not being into politics, and then there's not knowing basic stuff about the war you are involved in." Roman seemed quite bewildered, maybe a little angry. "How can you even talk about the war if you don't know a thing about it?" 

"Well, we know the war is bad... or was bad..." Bruno hung his head even lower. 

"I guess it is kind of silly of us." Pavle jiggled his foot. "I mean, we've been bitching about the war for weeks on end, but never really considered it might have, you know, causes and stuff..." 

"Yeah." Marko frowned. "It's almost like conflicts happen for reasons and whining about how horrible war is without offering any solutions for the underlying problems is not helping anyone and only promotes a simplistic, sententious view of the subject." 

"What are you talking about?" Bruno raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm... not sure." Marko scratched his head. Why had he said that? 

"Well, it's not like your motivation really matters." Roma decided. "Either way, I'm willing to help." 

"Good." Pavle smiled. "Now, let me tell you how it works." 

Pavle then went over the plan once more, taking several minutes to do so, discussing each detail far more thoroughly than when he first shared his idea. It didn't sound much better than the first time - hell, Marko liked it even less now that he wasn't as emotional - but he felt as though they were already too deep in crap to back away. 

"That's brutal." Roman commented, once Pavle was done talking. "But it has a chance of success, which is all I really need." 

"I wouldn't make a plan that has no chance of working." Pavle replied. "With your skills, we should be able to carry out the operation easily enough, though we still have to get all the equipment."

"I can find some valuables easily enough." Marko offered. "Katia is a good trader, so we should be able to..."

"Stop right there." The woman demanded. "What makes you think I'm on board with your plan?"

"You don't want the war to continue?" Pavle asked, puzzled.

"Of course I don't!" Katia exclaimed. "I'm a reporter, and it just so happens I have some new stories I can present. Preferably in a studio, with a mug of coffee nearby."

"Look Katia..." For once, Roman seemed kind of wary of what he would say. "I know you have some decent stories to tell, but don't you want to have more? More than that, don't you want to be a part of a historical event like this?"

"An event that will serve to prolong a brutal civil war?" Katia arched an eyebrow

"Doesn't this sort of stuff sell best?" Roman asked, receiving no reply. "Besides, think of how you would feel if we somehow botched this and let Vyseni do what they want, killing ourselves while we're at it?"

"...you have a point and I hate you." Katia stated after a moment's thought. "So once again, how are we doing this?"

-~O~-

Anton was one of the countless participants of a parade and the size of the crowd sort of unnerved him. People of all ages surrounded him, some of which far younger and stronger than him. He got used to seeing this as a bad thing, as other people meant potential danger - another thought pattern instilled into him during the war.

But now the war was over. This was the reason people were celebrating and it was enough for Anton to put up with the crowd, annoying as it was. A little inconvenience was nothing compared to the joy of seeing the conflict ended. 

God, was it horrible. For people who prepared accordingly or had the skills necessary to survive, being stuck in a warzone was probably bearable, but Anton found the last few months of his life to have been one long nightmare. He scavenged the ruins for food, occasionally finding something useful, but he couldn't carry too much and he found himself hungry most of the days. He couldn't fight, so staying in one place for too long was out of the question - it would just attract the bandits he wouldn't be able to chase off. His education as a mathematician wasn't particularly useful during wartime either. Mathematics might have been the foundation of science, but the only thing they were useful for was setting up traps in the most efficient manner possible, which only provided Anton with a few additional scraps of rat meat every now and then. Had the war lasted any further, even a week longer, he would likely find himself dead and not buried. 

But now he was here, amongst the crowd that arrived to celebrate the coming of peace. The assembled surrounded a large podium, from which a man in a fancy suit was giving a speech, while several of his kind sat on neatly arranged chairs, either waiting for their turn to speak, or having put their two cents already. Anton wasn't sure what they said or who was speaking now - his hearing was not what it used to be and his position didn't provide him with the best view - but there was a lot about peace and unity in each of the speeches, so it was probably all good news. There could have been something about wiping out minorities and taking a turn towards totalitarianism, but Anton didn't really care - after all, war was the only bad thing that ever happened and war being over was always good no matter what. 

He was just a little worried something bad would happen, that bombs would drop from the sky or the army marched down the street. It was silly of him since he knew the war was over. The only ones who could launch an attack would be a faction split from one of the sides, but even then they would have a hard task. Despite the peaceful nature of the event, the security was tight and armed guards surrounded the podium. Storming this position would require an organized military group - which would surely be noticed far before it could become a problem - or someone who was somehow equal to a well-armed military unit - which was obviously ridiculous. 

Anton forced himself to calm down. Even thinking about such horrible scenarios felt taxing, in addition to being completely pointless. He ought to rather see the speech come to an end, then return to his home and finally relax after all these...

A loud bang echoed through the air, a split second after the speaker's head was blown out, blood spraying the podium along with what looked like pieces of brain matter. Anton couldn't see the details, but he could clearly see a panic break out in the crowd immediately, screams following the gunshot and at least several people breaking out in fear.

The guards did not react immediately. They weren't as panicked as the civilians in the crowd, but they were confused, unsure of what to do. One of them began shouting something, either to the crowd or the gentlemen gathered on the platform, but it was impossible to hear what. It was just one voice amidst hundreds, if not thousand panicked individuals.

Then suddenly, an even louder scream pierced the air. Anton turned towards the source, and, despite the flaws in his eyesight, he could see a bright glow of fire that erupted midst the mass, consuming several people who were either rolling on the ground trying to put down the flames or just shrieking in agony.

Now everyone was running. Some people were shouting words of anger or fear, but most were just screaming. The politicians on the stage lost all veneer of dignity they had and became unrecognizable from their fellow man, desperately trying to get to safety, even if it meant lunging into a deadly crowd and pushing each other out of the way to get just a little further without getting squashed by the mass of bodies.

Anton didn't run. Not because he was braver than that, quite the opposite - fear and shock froze him in place as realization dawned in. If that was how the celebration of peace looked, was the war truly over? Did one of the sides betray the other? Was there another side no one took into account? Was this how things just were like in Granzavia now?

Would this war ever truly come to an end?

-~O~-

__

_"...for the aforementioned reasons, there is little hope of conflict coming to a peaceful resolution."_ The reporter concluded, her voice heard clearly through the speakers of the group's brand new TV set. _"It appears as though Granzavia is bound to be devoured by an endless, brutal war until nothing but embers remain. Please stay tuned for the weather forecast."_

"Do they do this things on the same channel now?" Katia asked, pulling her eyes away from the screen. "Doesn't seem very efficient."

"I heard the studio for filming weather forecasts got bombarded a few days ago." Marko replied. "Now that I think of it, I might pay a visit there soon enough."

Pavle rolled his eyes. Even though they've been eating daily and slept on fine beds for the last month, Marko would still sneak out each night to bring some additional supplies home. He probably found these scavenging trips entertaining, or maybe nostalgic - reminders of the time they actually served a purpose. "We appreciate your efforts, Marko, but I think we are past the point a few cans of food matter."

"Hey, if not for me we wouldn't be alive to reach that point." The firefighter replied. "All you ever did was throw that Molotov on the parade and run off really fast."

Before Pavle could retort, the sound of a doorbell drew his attention.

"Tribute." Bruno noted. "Someone should come to pick it up.

"I'll go." Katia offered. "It seems like I'm the face of the party nowadays."

"Do we still need a face?" Bruno mused. "We solve most of our problems through violence anyway."

"We are a team and it's important that anyone has a role." Roman ruled. "Even if it's me who does most of the work."

No one disputed that, because they really couldn't. Roman was the person most responsible for carrying out the plan that caused the war to prolong itself - he made a truly impressive shot with that rusty rifle of his - and he was the main reason their party was able to thrive during said war. With his military expertise, they were a formidable force, able to fight off all kinds of bandits and... convince some other groups to grant them some material aid.

Katia strolled towards the door, through the rooms of the fortress that would hopefully always be their home. They had moved to the tenement house, as the other dwelling was too small to fit all the things they have scavenged, bought or received in tribute from other factions. Their warband was feared all across Granzavia and many people preferred to part ways with some of their valuables than risk being a target of Roman's next raid or Marko's robbery.

"What do you think they brought us this time?" Pavle asked, hoping to stir the conversation a little. "More food, weapons, or maybe something novel?"

"I'm not placing bets this time," Marko said outright. They had tried engaging in some harmless forms of hazard before, but Pavle and Roman would always dominate the game. "But I'll say they probably brought some coffee. It's a popular offering after all."

"Well I'm hoping for some smokes." Bruno said. "I only have enough for the next month before I have to use low-quality rollups."

"I would say they'll bring another guitar." Pavle gave his five cents. "But I'm really hoping for a some football equipment. I would really like to play it again sometime, you know? This gaming console we got last week is cool, but it's just not the real thing."

"The horrors of war, my friend." Roman remarked, smiling ever so slightly. "The horrors of war."


End file.
